Simply Love
by Jill2
Summary: # 8 in the "Closeness"-series; Angel and Buffy talk in his room. B/A all the way!


Thanks to everyone who sent feedback so far for this series. When I started writing it, I wasn't quite certain what was going to happen to it, but right now it's very close to my heart. The POVs are a lot of fun to write, and your feedback tells me you enjoy reading it. So thanks again – your feedback is what keeps me going. 

FIC: Simply Love (1/1)  # 8 in the "Closeness"-series

Author: Jill

Disclaimer: oh please, as if I even want to own them these days

Category: Romance/Angst (well, a bit of it g)

Pairing: B/A, mention of C/A, D/A, B/R, B/S

Rating: PG-13 

Distribution: my site (http://www.never-ending-love.de), ffnet, several lists including BA_Fluff, if you have any of my stuff, just take it, anybody else please tell me where it goes

Spoilers: the whole Buffy-Angel-Saga, I have, however, not seen the latest episodes (I didn't want to be spoiled for another story I was writing), but it doesn't really matter for the story (I've heard rumours though), and you should read the first stories in the series called "Empty", "Frozen", "Dawn", "Cold", "Breath", "Friends", and "Light".

Summary: Buffy and Angel together in his room, Buffy's POV

Timeline: a month after Connor disappeared

Feedback: oh yes, please!!!

Dedication: This is for Anja. Thanks for all your encouragement and the great feedback. You are simply the best. I hope you'll like this part. 

Author's Note: I am a B/A-shipper, and in my book there's only one person who could help Angel in a situation like this. So if you are C/A or B/S, then just turn away now. You've been warned. And if you still want to send flames – send them on – I will forward them directly to Marti Noxon, David Greenwalt, and Joss Wheadon for what they're taking us through with this season. 

Author's Note 2: I won't go into detail, but you still might get spoiled for season 6/3

Author's Note 3: For this story, Connor has disappeared and although the fang-gang has tried finding a way to get him back, all has been in vain.

And once more with the author's notes: Don't worry, I will continue all the other stories I'm currently writing. I promise. But I have the sudden urge to write this. I can't help it. It just pours out of me and so all I can do is go with the flow. g

Author's Note 5: I have neither seen the episodes, nor read the transcript of the last Angel-episodes. I know Connor has been abducted, but I haven't read the details. And I only heard rumors about Cordy's vacation with Groo. Any faults because of it are mine, but as this story is mine, too, well … you get the point. I hope you'll enjoy nevertheless

I feel my body shaking in his arms, I'm just holding him, and let myself being held, his lips touch the crown of my hair, as he speaks, and I turn my cheek into the front of his shirt, seeking the familiar scent, the stillness of his chest beneath my skin. I don't have any more tears to shed, that well has gone dry. There is only the pain, the choking, squeezing pain in my chest. I can't control it. I can't keep it in anymore. "Angel?" I force his name out on a strangled whisper of air, a desperate cry for help before the panic consumes me. 

"Shhh, Buffy, shhh." 

Locking my hands at his waist, he pulls his shoulders back to create a space between us, feathers his fingers into my hair, and tips my face up, forcing me to meet the concern in his eyes. His face swims before me, I'm unable to focus on it. But that's not important, I already know what he looks like. It's the face I've missed in my dreams, the eyes I've dreamed to see.

The softest of kisses touches my lips, startling the breath into my lungs. It's like a feather, brushing, like a breath, fluttering. He kisses me again. It's not as soft as before, but it's still a mere whisper, a hint of touch. I can feel my own heart beating once more. His lips touch mine a third time, and then I kiss him back, not caring for anything. Just wanting to kiss him, touch him, hold him. Hoping. Wishing. Wanting. 

At the slightest of responses, he claims my mouth with a force that stuns me. The essence of Angel pours into me, seeking that empty part of me that once knew how to love and to be loved, finding it, something I thought long lost. I press myself closer and meet his kiss, absorbing his scent, his strength, his healing touch. As if he knows, he gives all he has, and I  take. I've never in my life needed anything as much as I need this right now. 

"Angel," I whisper his name into his mouth, and his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer, pressing our bodies together. As if having a life of their own, my hands comb through his hair, my thumbs touch the fragile skin on his temples. God, I want this to go on and on. I don't want this to end, don't want to leave this embrace, this feeling of security, of being protected. Of belonging. 

But I'm not the girl I once was anymore, I've become harder, more realistic, and after a moment, I break the kiss, and bury my face in the front of his shirt, the silken feeling of it on my skin, the achingly familiar scent of Angel in my nose, the enveloping warmth comforting me, although his body is cold. I've sometimes wondered why I can feel warm with someone who is technically dead, and why I could feel cold with Riley's arms around me. I didn't want to know the answer then, but have no problems seeing it now. 

His lips touch my forehead, and looking up I see him gazing down at me with concern, "Better?," he asks, his voice gentle and soothing, his hands still firmly on my back, giving me strength, even now when reality intrudes again.

I manage to nod, still mesmerized by the sudden closeness, still caught up in that kiss. "Yeah. A bit. But now I cried all over you."

He chuckles at that, "So we're even." 

I look down at my shirt where the traces of his tears have dried, and manage a wobbly smile, "I guess." I have still problems to look him in the eye, now that he knows my deepest shame, my darkest secret. It's not so much the fact that I slept with Spike, I had sex with Riley before, and with Parker. Angel left me, he was the one who put an end to our relationship, and I don't feel obligated to live like a nun. Or obligated at all, for that matter. But now that my mind seems a bit clearer, that I'm able to live in this world again, the dimension of what I've done suddenly becomes painfully clear. 

Of course, I'm trying to find excuses. That Spike was a friend. That he's never been the average demon, even without a chip. I still remember him coming to my house to propose a deal when I was about to fight Angelus, or finding him crying all over my mom because Drusilla left him. That certainly makes him different, doesn't it? I like to think that way, like to think that Spike is special somehow, that there is more than just the emptiness of a demon underneath a human shell. Like to think that I had better judgement than to trust a serial killer without any remorse or desire to atone. 

In the beginning I didn't care at all. Coming back from what might have been Heaven was a shock. I knew I was weary of this world, but only then I realised how much. So between all that ugliness did it really matter what I did? Was it important at all? What did it matter that there was a soulless demon rutting with me in the dark, clawing my skin, breathing my scent, when the world around us was dark and evil, empty and loveless. Like a wild animal in a cage biting its own body parts, just to feel anything, I found my own escape. I didn't care who got hurt in the process, didn't care that Spike was in love with me. He was a demon, so what? He didn't have soul anyway. But animals don't have souls either – or so my grandmother once told me – and I've seen them suffer. 

Revulsion hits me with brutal force and I turn away from Angel's scrutinizing gaze. I sometimes wonder if he can still see right through me? Or was it only a result of being close, of being in love? 

Love?

For a long time love was just a word for me. At least when it came to the kind of passionate love that's supposed to be between man and woman. Riley never stood a chance. I was too hurt then, too closed up. I let him take my body, but my heart stayed my private, guarded property. He tried his best to tear the walls down, but failed, and finally gave up. I'm glad he has Sam now. She is the kind of woman I always pictured him with. Kind, giving, and totally devoted to him. And even a blind man can see he feels the same. He is happy, and I'm glad I could see it. I've always felt guilty for the way I treated him – even if it was unintentionally. I never realised how much I hurt him, until it was too late.

Before Angel came into my life, I didn't have a clue what love is. And sometimes – after he left – I found myself wishing I'd never known. When you grow up, your parents tell you how great your future is going to be, they read you fairytales of beautiful princesses and white knights in shining armour. And when you finally meet him, the one guy who makes your heart beat a mile a minute, makes your mouth go dry, and makes you dream in colour and stereo, the guy your parents and the fairytales told you about, you're supposed to close your arms around him and hold him forever. 

Unfortunately none of the stories ever said that my prince wouldn't be a white knight, but a dark prince, and that feeling happy his evil twin was coming out to play. Or that he had to avoid the sun like the plague. I still remember the concern in mom's eyes when she found out about Angel. I know her reaction was born out of concern for her daughter, was born out of love, but she never understood how torn I was, between the man I loved and the mother who had given me life, and who I loved – not the same way, of course – but just as much. 

"Don't, Buffy." 

His voice is soft like velvet and I feel a shiver running down my spine. It's like the voice I remember, soothing, gentle, understanding. The painful emptiness inside of me seems to inhale it, seems to fill with it, shrinking into nothingness, replaced by the warmth resulting of his words, his very presence. Assured by this warmth, I manage to raise my head and look him in the eye, and I feel my own eyes moisten at the understanding and love I see shining down at me. There is no condemnation, no reproach, and it is so like Angel I want to weep. Because it hurt so much, I let myself forget how it was to just sit beside him, talk to him, have him listen to me. But I feel it now, like a healing touch, like magic, pouring into me, gluing long broken pieces back together. 

"I feel so dirty," I admit, my voice low.

Without hesitation he takes my hand, "There is no need. You're still the same girl. Brave, full of light, beautiful." A wistful smile appears on his lips, "Nothing can change that. Ever. At least not in my eyes, and I truly hope, not in yours either."

It's as if a stone is lifting from my shoulders, and when he continues I can hardly believe my ears. It is as if the years separating us, and all the things that happened, slip into nothingness.

„Buffy," Angel sighs loudly, rubs the back of his neck. "For all I care you could've slept with the entire football team of Sunnydale high, including the coach and the water boy. The way I reacted at first … when you told me about … Spike … that I hesitated," he pauses for a moment, winces after he said the name. "I was hurt. I … could  … I didn't want to think of you with him. I knew … what you did with him. For a moment I couldn't think straight, it was like a red mist swimming in front of my eyes. But not for a moment … not even a tiny little one, I stopped loving you. Whatever you do, whatever happens, you can always be sure of that. I could never stop loving you

"You're a part of me. Not loving you is something I'm not made for. As simple as that." He smiles then, gently, lovingly, and without a doubt I know he said nothing but the truth. He loves me. No matter what. And God, how I want to believe him. I want to believe him each and every word. But can I really be sure? Does he really love me? Or just the other Buffy, the young innocent schoolgirl he remembers? I'm not that schoolgirl anymore. I stopped being innocent when I drove the sword through his stomach, but a large part of me still hadn't touched real ugliness. But then I died and came back. That was when everything changed.

"Oh, Angel." My voice sounds choked, strange even to me. I turn my hand in his and entwine our fingers. "You cannot know what that means to me."

"You have no idea what it means to me that you came in the first place," he replies, squeezing my hand. "I had lost every will to go on. Los-", his voice breaks, and I hear him take a deep, shuddering breath before he can go on, "Losing Connor was … like losing my heart and soul. I never thought I could love another person like this."

I should feel jealous at his words, but strangely I'm not. Instead I think of Dawn and understand what he's talking about. And I'm still too amazed by his words. Is it really that easy, I wonder? Can he still love me, the way he used to love me? After all this time, after all that's been? I had other lovers, he had a son, and still our feelings remain unchanged? Even as I consider the questions the answer is crystal clear. And surprisingly easy, so easy it makes me feel light and dizzy. He claims he never stopped loving me, and I believe him, because I never stopped loving him either. How could I when he's my very heart?

Yet, loving each other was not enough before. Can it be enough now? "And what does that mean for us?," I hear myself asking before I can stop the words. And as soon as they are out I know they had to be said. I need to know what's going to happen. I've been through too much to hope for things that won't ever happen.

I hear him sigh beside me again, but his fingers remain entwined with mine, and that keeps the hope alive. "Honestly? I don't know," he says. "I'm not sure how to deal with this. Yesterday my world seemed to end, and today…" He squeezes my hand, pulls it on his thigh and holds it there. "I didn't allow myself to think about the impossible for so long, I don't know what's going to happen. Basically nothing has changed. My soul is still as shaky as it was, I'm still a vampire … and you're not. You live in Sunnydale, where you are needed. And I live in L.A." Suddenly he chuckles, "And so far you haven't even given me a hint if you're interested at all."

"Do you really have to ask?" I look up at him, and he smiles.

"Yes, I have to. Just because you came to me, and listened to my declaration of love, doesn't mean you still feel the same. And besides, it's sometimes nice to hear you say it."

I gaze at him for a long moment, then lean my head against his shoulder, "I think when a woman knows what she had to offer, she can accept a man's love for what it is. I doesn't have to come to her in a name-brand box. So yeah, I love you. Did you really doubt it?"

"Sometimes," he admits, and I feel his lips on my hair. "Most of the time, I didn't try to think about it. At all. But you know what I found out? When a man loves a woman properly he lets her know what she has to offer."

That makes me frown, and disturbs me slightly, "Are you telling me you never loved properly before?" Does it mean he never loved **me** before? It's more than just disturbing.

"No," he replies quickly. "I mean, I … I loved you. Always. I just told you I did. The problem was I didn't love me, didn't accept me the way I was. I'm not sure I'm there yet, but I'm much more comfortable with myself these days."

I release the breath I didn't realise I've been holding, "That sounds really good. Still, you haven't told me what this means to us."

"Whatever we want it to mean. There's still not a lot I have to offer, but unlike before, I'm willing to try. If I've learned something, Buffy, it's that life is too short. Even for someone who's supposed to be immortal. We have to take first chances, because sometimes the second ones won't come."

"That sounds very wise. A lot like something Giles could have said." I chuckle slightly at the thought, for the first time since he left having nothing but fond feelings for my former watcher. It's amazing what sitting beside Angel can do to you. Not to forget that I'm still not quite able to believe what we're talking about. I came to help him, and now we're talking about getting back together. And to my astonishment it doesn't surprise me at all. It's the most natural thing in the world. God, I feel giddy at the thought, and at the same time terribly afraid that I'm going to wake up any moment, and it's just been another dream. I used to have them, quite frequently even. 

"Well, we're both older than you," he jokes and it makes my heart sing. This Angel has changed, and although I can still feel his pain, surrounding him almost like something I can touch, I can also see that being with me makes him want to live again. I want to dance and sing, but instead remain with my head on his shoulder, marvelling in the fact that this seems more intimate than having sex with someone else. 

"I've had nothing," I say spontaneously.

I feel him stiffen beside me, just for a moment, then feel how he struggles to relax again. "What?"

"Between Angel then and Angel now, I've had nothing else. I just wanted you to know." I know he still won't understand what I'm talking about, but I don't care. It's so good to sit beside him, to be close, and for a moment I wonder what would have happened had he been there when I came back. But I dismiss the thought, too happy to let dark thoughts shadow that happiness.

But somehow Angel still seems able to read my thoughts. "There was Riley … and that other guy … and –"

"And you had Darla," I interrupt him, not wanting to hear Spike's name on his lips. "Was it like this with her?"

"No."

"That's what I thought," I say, and inwardly relax. What would I have done if he'd said yes? But he didn't and so I continue, "When we made love, I felt it. I just knew. Not then, of course," I say quickly, when I feel he's about to say something, "I was too young, too inexperienced. But now I know. I think back and I know."

I don't know what I've expected him to say, but his simple "Yes," makes my heart sing.

"It was as if I was where I belonged. With you. I never felt that with anyone. Just sitting here, just holding your hand, it's so much more than …," I trail off, shrug. I don't need to say it, hurt him with my words. I know he understands.

"I never forgot about you," he kisses my crown again, "I tried to ignore it, but deep inside I never could."

"I've dreamt about this, you know." I slightly nudge his shoulder with my head, then look at him and smile, "And it's wonderful. But it's also worse than I thought."

One of his brows raises, "Wonderful and worse?"

"So much has changed. You've changed so completely, I'm just beginning to understand it. I've missed so much, I was never part of. I'm sitting here and find myself wondering if you laugh now. Not just smile. You smiled when we were together, but I remember that I always wanted to hear you laugh. Not just a chuckle, a full belly laughter."

"I do sometimes," he admits. "Ever since Connor…," he trails off, shadows clouding his eyes again. But then he pulls himself together, and he forces himself to smile. I can see what an effort it is for him, and I want to hug him for it, but I remain where I am, listening to his voice, the voice I've missed for so long. "You know, the same goes for me. I've missed the things, too. I see you now, a young woman, and I remember the girl I left, and I have a feeling I missed a lot more than you."

"I know," I smile at him again. I feel like grinning like an idiot, but I restrain myself. It doesn't feel right somehow, with Connor gone. I never knew Angel's son, but he created a world of love in his father, and that's enough for me to know. "But … somehow … maybe because you're a vampire, I thought you'd never change, that you'd always stay the same Angel. But you didn't. And I realise I'm glad you changed. Because I have, too."

He pulls his hand to his mouth and kisses the back, then turns it, and I feel the soft touch of his lips against my palm. "Although we didn't change together?"

I hear the regret in his voice, and cup his cheek in my palm, "We can't change that," I tell him, pressing my palm against his skin, locking my eyes with his, "I loved you then the way a girl loves a boy. It was deep, and strong, but still it wasn't enough. Not enough to fight for you, to force you to stay and face the problems we had. But I'm a woman now. A woman who loves you." It's so easy to say it, I can't believe it. I've denied my feelings for so long, and I expected them to be painful when they'd finally be forced out, but they are not. To say I love him is liberating, because it's the truth. I always knew lying was difficult, but I never realised before how much more difficult it can be to lie to yourself. "I'm not scared anymore because things might become difficult. I'm ready to face them, if you are."

I nail him with my eyes, refuse to let him pull back. I didn't come to L.A. to gain this. But now that I'm there, I'm not going to let it slip away. Not anymore. Still, I wait breathlessly for his answer. And when he smiles, my heart makes a little sommersault.

"I'm ready," he whispers. "God, I love you, Buffy. So very much."

"So do I," I whisper back, before his lips claim mine, "So am I."

END

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